Beauty
by EveryShadeOfDeath
Summary: My take on Bellatrix discovering beauty for the first time. Written for a challenge by comebacksirius.


**This is the first of my two ideas about Bellatrix coming to terms with beauty. I took up the challenge by comebacksirius and it inspired me a lot!**

The room had been abandoned for years. The musty furniture had grown old and the roses printed on the once pink wallpaper were withered and a dusty grey. She had not been in here since she was a child, it held no sentimental value and she saw no reason to return to her old room, unlike her sister. She scoffed loudly and strode into the room. Her boots left their imprints on the hard wooden floor as she stopped abruptly. Of course it was still here; Narcissa had loved it so much she would never part with it.Stupid nostalgic girl.  
At twenty-three she really needed to move on from this childish fear, it was getting her nowhere and like the Dark Lord said, useless things should be destroyed. Her Master would never be afraid, if he knew he would look down onher, sneer at her foolish nature and… could he? Her eyes widened dramatically. He just couldn't cast her out, death would be better than that horror. Though that appeared to be her other option if she didn't start acting like a woman, not a mere child. Time to grow up, and at the same time pack all her baby ideals away in a box. Then preferably hex it into oblivion. If something no longer existed then she could pretend it never had. But this did exist, she could see it with her own eyes, feel its presence in the room.

A slim, almost bone-like finger extended towards the sheen of material. It caught between her fingers and she paused. Frozen, like a rabbit caught in headlights, even her heart seemed to have stopped its steady beat. With a great pull, the silky cover fell and she closed her eyes and balled her fists.

It was beautiful, carved from the finest oak and polished by the stares of vanity. Bellatrix felt her fingernails carve their own pattern on her palms, the crescent marks mocking her weakness and the seeping crimson a witness to her fear. She hated herself, the way her heart sang her terror and her eyelids refused to open. She hated the shaking that threatened to take over her. She was scared of a mirror. Petrified of the ugly child that would stare back at her, just as it had done all those years before. She could feelNarcissa in the empty space behind her, her childish face already beautiful and graceful. Her rich sand coloured locks tumbling past her shoulders, and those large forget-me-not eyes. Her rosy lips would silently mock Bella's large, wild, forest coloured eyes and her tangled black mane. Would mock the scar on her neck and the dirt on her knees. The mirror would stay silent, its glassy face pointing out every imperfection on the 10 year old.

But she was not that child, not any more. She was lusted after by all the men, envied by all the girls, she had aquired the handsomest Slytherinin the year, save one. The man her sister had caught in her wicked web. She growled loudly, and her eyes snapped open. A soft sigh burned her lips, and seemed to dance in the air around her face. She stared in unconcealed longing at the woman in front of her. She was gorgeous, perfect, in the way Bellatrix had never been. Waves of mindnight cascaded past her shaply shoulders and framed a handsome, well-bred face. Madness shone from the proud, jade gems in her face, not that Bella saw it. She saw intelligence and love, for her Master only.

From the haze of lust and longing a thought emerged, a line her father had once told her, as he had spoken to his children before they went to sleep.

_Beauty of whatever kind,__ in its supreme development, invariably excites the sensitive soul to tears._

A line by Edgar Allen Poe, one of the many squibs from the Black family. She had never understood it, dismissing it as one of her father's odd quotes. But, as she reached to touch her cheeks and found them wet, she found herself agreeing with the quote.

**He****r **unclenched hands fell by her sides as her salty tears began to dilute the blood already falling from them.

Bellatrix let out a shaky sob and fell to her knees, her eyes only on the pefection in front of her. A Bloodied hand rested in the mirrors cool surface and she stared at her reflection.

**Verry different to how I planned, but hey! We get some paranoid bella, always fun. **


End file.
